One of my mom’s favourite hobbies was shopping.  She approached the art of shopping almost like a sport, hunting for the best deals and finding treasures at department stores, always scouring the clearance racks.  From my small hometown, we would drive 45 minutes to a bigger city with a mall and spend the entire day bouncing from store to store, but usually focused on the bigger mall anchors: JC Penney, Marshall Field’s and Prange’s.  It was the mid-80s and the mall was the place to be.  I actually enjoyed these trips, which often included a trip to the food court and plenty of time spent teasing my mom by hiding in the middle of the clothing racks.

But my mom would sometimes push the limits regarding how long we stayed at the department stores.  And before you knew it, they were making announcements over the PA system about the store closing. 

“Marshall Field’s is now closing for the day.  Please bring your final purchase to a register for checkout.”

And I would panic, asking my mom if we were going to get locked in the store.  It was an honest fear, and it happened regularly.  Announcement; my mom still casually browsing the sale racks; me tugging on her shirt or purse telling her we had to go.  Now!

I would even map out little plans, where would we sleep if we were locked in the store overnight.  Should we hide somewhere so we didn’t get in trouble?

As an adult it seems outrageous.  If anything, getting locked in the store overnight could have been fun.  Magical even.  But in my 5- or 6-year-old mind, it was mostly just terrifying. 

Luckily that never happened.  We would always make our final purchases and head out, sometimes trailed by a store employee who would immediately lock the door once we were on the outside.  But those shopping trips left an impression and, on the odd chance I end up in a store as they are making the closing announcements, I still feel a momentary state of panic set it.  And then I smile, thinking of my mom, and head home.